A Minor Annoyance

Continued from: Now you may call me, Ma'am

A Sarah Jane story 

It had been a few days since Russell and I signed our female-led-relationship contract, and things were going smoothly so far. His chastity cage was locked securely in place, a constant reminder of my authority. I predominately work from home so I take great pleasure knowing Russell leaves the house in the morning locked, and returns home locked, as both keys to the device in my possession, behind an additional layer of security he does not know the combination to. 

I also made some small changes around the house while he was at work, to reflect our new dynamic - a vase of wooden spoons and spatulas sat prominently on the kitchen counter now, implements of opportunity to be accessed at a moment's notice. 

One of MY belts, not his, now hung from the back of our bedroom door, a silent sentinel, watching over things. 

On my dresser, my sturdy wooden hairbrush was displayed like a trophy, and my rubber-soled slippers waited patiently by the bedroom door. 

Each item represented a tool of feminine dominance and maternal correction, yet I hadn't had cause to use them...yet, and we had not made it to a maintenance Sunday...yet. 

As the days passed, I found myself growing increasingly eager to feel Russell squirming over my lap, his bare bottom turning red under my firm hand. The anticipation was building, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would need to assert my dominance with a thorough spanking. 

On a random Tuesday, after Russell left for work, I made my way to the kitchen, eager for my morning coffee. However, as I approached the Keurig, I was met with an irritating sight. The water reservoir was bone dry, and Russell's used pod remained in the machine. Very poor Keurig etiquette if I do say so myself. Right up there with someone microwaving maple oatmeal or fish, in the communal workplace microwave. 

There's just unwritten rules in a society, right? 

A wave of minor annoyance washed over me, quickly replaced by a spark of excitement. This was the perfect opportunity to exercise my authority and remind Russell of his place in our dynamic. 

I reached for my phone, snapping a picture of the empty reservoir and offending spent pod. With a smirk playing on my lips, I composed a message to send to Russell at work. 

"This is how you left it for me?" I typed, attaching the incriminating photo. 

My thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, savouring the anticipation of his reaction. This little infraction would provide the ideal excuse for the spanking I had been itching to administer, and I couldn't wait to see Russell's face when he realizes the consequences of his actions. 

As I hit send on the initial message, a wicked grin spread across my face. I knew Russell would be in some high-touch meeting with the executives, squirming in his seat at work, anxiously awaiting my next communication. I decided to twist the knife a little further, my fingers dancing across the screen as I composed a follow-up text. 

"We're going to have a little 'chat' when you get home, young man," I typed, my tone dripping with mock disappointment. I could almost hear the nervous gulp and imagine the look on his face amidst his senior leaders and peers, his stomach twisting into knots and wondering if the rest of them knew he'll be getting a spanking tonight. The thought of him spending the entire day dreading our impending discussion filled me with a great sense of power and anticipation. 

As the day wore on, I found myself growing more and more excited for Russell's return. I wanted to set the perfect scene for our little chat, so I took great care in selecting my outfit. I chose a vintage 1950s, housewife dress that hugged my curves, pairing it with delicate pearls, bold red lipstick, and sheer hosiery that accentuated my legs. I slipped into a pair of sky-high heels, the click against the hardwood floor filing me with a sense of power and confidence. 

I surveyed my reflection in the mirror - a perfect blend of classic femininity and modern dominance. Turning my attention to the vase of wooden spoons on the kitchen counter, I carefully selected the one that would serve as my instrument of correction. I left it resting in the vase, a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. 

As the sound of Russell's car pulling into the driveway reached my ears, I positioned myself near the entrance, a warm smile playing on my lips. Despite the welcoming façade, we both knew the truth - in this household, I was the one in charge, and Russell was about to receive a firm reminder of that fact. 

We exchanged pleasantries, our voices light and casual, as if nothing were amiss. However, I could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes as he took in my dramatic appearance - the cinched waist of my vintage dress, the shimmering pearls at my throat, the towering heels that elevated me above him both physically and metaphorically. 

I watched as his gaze drifted past me, widening slightly as he noticed the straight-backed, armless chair positioned in the center of the living room. The absence of our usual coffee table was a glaring omission, replaced by this ominous piece of furniture that seemed to dominate the space. 

My voice was calm yet commanding as I issued my order. "Strip," I demanded, my eyes boring into his. "I want you completely naked, right down to that locked up cock of yours." Piece by piece, his clothing fell away, revealing his vulnerable form. 

He stood and lowered his eyes before me, utterly exposed save for the chastity cage that encased his manhood. I nodded towards the corner by the front door. "Go stand there and think about why we need to have a chat tonight," I directed, my tone still calm but strict. "Hands behind your head, nose to the walls." Obediently, Russell assumed the position, his bare skin prickling with goosebumps. 

Even though our FLR contract was signed several days ago with rules and consequences set, I was vague enough to use the term punishment generically. I had not dug deep into the different forms this could take. Russell knows all of this anyway, but I thought I would flex my dominance and humiliate him even further, by plainly explaining his current predicament. 

"Cornertime is an integral part of our discipline routine, young man," I matter-of-factly explained, my voice steady and authoritative. "Before and after every spanking, you will be positioned in a designated corner of my choosing, bare-bottomed and nose to the wall." 

"Pre-spanking cornertime allows you to contemplate your misdeeds and anticipate your impending punishment. Post-spanking cornertime provides and opportunity for reflection, to feel shame and acceptance of your corrected state while on humiliating display to the rest of the room." 

"During cornertime, you are forbidden from speaking, fidgeting, or attempting to cover your reddened bottom, young man. The duration of your timeouts will be determined by the severity of your offense and my discretion." 

I paused for a moment before continuing my preachy monolog, taking in the sight of his trembling form in the corner. It was a lovely view from my perspective. 

"A common length for your cornertime, young man, typically will range from fifteen minutes to one hour, depending on the circumstances. For minor infractions or routine maintenance spankings, I will usually be giving you a quarter-hour of contemplation both before and after the punishment."

"However, for more serious transgressions or particularly intense discipline sessions, I may extend the cornertime up to sixty minutes on either side of the spanking." 

I knew from my own experiences to always use a timer, and that the unpredictable duration adds an element of psychological tension, which will keep Russell on edge and fully focused on his penance. 

With my rant complete and my fifteen minute timer nearing its end, I stood and heel-clicked out of the room and into the kitchen. I reached for the wooden spoon from the vase and made certain Russell could hear me clanking it from the glass and against the other wooden utensils. 

Its weight was solid and reassuring in my palm, I knew that this was only the beginning of the lesson I had in store for my naughty little "boy". 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: The Struggle is Real

 

Now you may call me, Ma'am

Continued from: Sign Here, Initial There

A Sarah Jane story 

As I continued to sit, perched atop Russell's face, his moans of being teased and tormented, spurring me on, I frantically typed away at our FLR contract. 

My entire journey as a submissive, every experience with Russell and every session and scene at Mistress Andrea's Facility, had culminated into this very moment, as I stitched together an intricate contact of my terms. 

Chastity 

During the entirety of his contract, the submissive shall remain in a state of enforced chastity, achieved through the use of a secure locking device affixed to his penis. 

This device shall prevent any form of erection, masturbation, or sexual release without the express permission and involvement of the Mistress. 

The Mistress shall retain sole possession of both keys to the chastity device, and shall only remove said device for supervised cleanings or for her own pleasure and amusement. 

The submissive shall surrender all rights to sexual gratification via his penis, understanding that his orgasms are now the property of the Mistress, to be dispensed or withheld at her discretion. 

Any attempt to circumvent or tamper with the chastity device shall result in severe punishment, as determined by the Mistress   

The submissive accepts that his sexual frustration is a necessary and desired component of his submission, and shall strive to channel this energy into more productive avenues of service to the Mistress. 

Initial:_____________

Initial:_____________

Date:__________

Once Russell has agreed to all the terms, signed and initialed immediately after my initials and signature, he will be getting introduced to the Black Mamba, resin crafted, internally locking, chastity cage. It looks like this one: 

Domestic Discipline 

To maintain order and reinforce the hierarchy within our relationship, the Mistress reserves the right to administer corporal punishment in response to any transgressions committed by the submissive. 

Minor infractions, including but not limited to violations of established rules, breaches of etiquette, failure to manage household expenses properly, or general misbehaviour, shall be addressed through the application of a firm spanking applied to the submissive's bare buttocks.

The severity and duration of these spankings shall be determined solely by the Mistress, based on the nature of the offense and her assessment of the submissive's contrition. 

The submissive is expected to accept these punishments with grace and humility, recognizing them as opportunities for growth and correction. 

Failure to comply with or excessive resistance to these disciplinary measures may result in escalated consequences, at the Mistress' discretion.

Initial:_____________

Initial:_____________

Date:__________

Maintenance Spankings

To ensure the submissive's continued obedience and to reinforce the dynamic of our relationship, regular maintenance spankings shall be administered every Sunday, without exception. 

These sessions serve multiple purposes: firstly, they provide a consistent reminder of the submissive's place within our dynamic, reinforcing his role as the one who receives discipline and guideance. 

Secondly, they offer an opportunity for the Mistress to assess the physical and emotional state, allowing for any necessary adjustments to be made to his training regimen. 

Lastly, these maintenance spankings serve as a form of stress relief for both parties, providing a controlled outlet for any pent-up tensions or frustrations that may have accumulated throughout the week. 

The submissive is expected to present himself promptly, dressed as the Mistress has outlined and prepared to receive whatever level of discipline the Mistress deems appropriate. 

Failure to attend or participate fully in these maintenance spankings shall be considered a serious breach of contract and may result in additional, more severe consequences. 

Initial:_____________

Initial:_____________

Date:__________

Bedtime Spankings

In addition to our weekly maintenance spankings, the Mistress shall also administer bedtime spankings as needed, assuming a more nurturing role during these intimate moments. 

Unlike a maintenance or punishment spankings, these spankings are designed to soothe and relax the submissive, preparing him for a restful night's sleep. 

The submissive shall present himself to the Mistress, ready for bed and dressed in dedicated sleepwear selected by the Mistress. 

When prompted, the submissive will bare his bottom and position himself over the lap of the Mistress.

These bedtime spankings may last anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour, depending on how long it takes for the submissive to fully embrace his vulnerability. These bedtime rituals serve to strengthen the bond between us, reminding the submissive that even in his most vulnerable moments, he is cherished and protected.   

Initial:_____________

Initial:_____________

Date:__________

Other categories followed. We did take a small break at one point, or at least I did, and removed my bum from his face. 

The contract spoke of special greetings, morning and evening rituals, specialty clothing and outfits, general rules about reporting, location tracking and check-ins. There was even a section about how he will present himself and behave at Mistress Andrea's Facility, should we end up there. 

Russell was eventually released from my makeshift queening stool. He was permitted to sit and read through all of the sections, initialing his consent at the end of each one. 

Upon the final page, his hand trembled slightly as he applied his full signature to seal his own fate. My signature followed, immediately below. I set the contract aside and retrieved his chastity cage from a delicate, satin pouch. I fit the cage around his flaccid cock, securing the lock with the only set of keys. 

"There," I cooed. 

"Now you may call me, Ma'am." 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: A Minor Annoyance

Sign Here, Initial There

Continued from: What do you say?

A Sarah Jane story 

The morning light filters gently through the curtains as we stir awake, our bodies still tangled in the aftermath of last night's explorations. I feel Russell shift beside me, his lips already forming the words "Good morning, Ma'am." But I silence him with a single finger pressed to his lips, my eyes locking with his. "No, not yet," I murmur softly, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. His eagerness to address me by a formal title is endearing, a clear indication that we're on the right track. But there is still work to be done, boundaries to establish, and roles to solidify. 

 Gently pulling away from his embrace, I sit up, stretching cutely before turning to face him once more. "Go make me a coffee, please," I instruct, my voice firm yet affectionate. "And bring it to the upstairs office. You'll wait for me there, understood?" He nods, his eyes wide and attentive, hanging on my every word. "Oh, and one more thing," I add, my gaze trailing appreciatively over his naked form. "You'll remain in your underpants only while you wait. I want easy access to what is mine." 

A faint blush colours his cheeks at my words, but he doesn't hesitate, rising from the bed and padding off to fulfill my request. 

I rise from the bed, taking a moment to select a suitable outfit for this occasion. Something powerful, yet feminine; authoritative, yet alluring.  

As I stand before the mirror, surveying my reflection, I can't help but feel a surge of power coursing through me. The lace panties leave little to the imagination, the delicate, sheer fabric clinging to my curves like a second skin. The corset cinches my waist, emphasizing my hourglass figure, while the intricate lacing at the back hints at the restraint and control that is about to define our dynamic. 

And the heels, those glorious sky-high heels, elevate me both literally and figuratively, adding inches to my height and cementing my status as the dominant force in this relationship. 

I retrieve the ottoman from the end of my bed and pull it across the hall into the office. There, I position it carefully, creating an impromptu queening stool. I go back to my room to collect my laptop, as I hear the soft pad of Russell's bare feet approaching, followed by the rustle of fabric as he settles himself in the chair I indicated, to await my arrival. 

A slow smile spreads across my face as I picture him there, his nearly naked form a testament to his submission, his eagerness to please me in every way. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and strode towards the office door. Each click of my heels against the hardwood floor is a declaration of intent, a warning of the power that approaches. 

I allow him a moment to appreciate the view, to let the reality of his position sink in, before crossing to the desk and setting down my laptop with a deliberate thud. Turning to face him fully, I meet his eyes, my own burning with intensity of my desire, my need to claim him utterly and completely. 

"Well, young man," I purr, my voice a sultry invitation and a stern command all at once. "Shall we begin?" 

With a flick of my wrist, I gesture for Russell to approach the ottoman, my makeshift throne. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the leather restraints dangling from my fingertips, but he doesn't hesitate, holding out his wrists to me. 

Once secured to the ottoman, I give the restraints a final tug, ensuring there's no give, no escape from the fate I have planned for him. With a graceful movement, I settle myself onto the ottoman, lowering my barely-clad bum onto his upturned face. 

The deliberately selected panties were ultra-sheer, he is so close, but teased by the delicate shrouding of fabric. I can feel the brush of his nose against my bottom-hole, a delicious tease that sends shivers of pleasure rippling through my core.

To a fly on the wall, the situation would appear like so: 

Leaning forward, I reach for my coffee, brining the mug to my lips and inhaling deeply, savouring the rich aroma before taking a sip. 

Setting the mug aside, I turn my attention to my laptop, my fingers flying over the keys as I begin to type. 

FEMALE-LED-RELATIONSHIP

(FLR) 

CONTRACT

1. The Dominant party, Sarah Jane, henceforth referred to as, "the Mistress."

2. The submissive party, Russell, henceforth referred to as "the submissive." 

3. The contract shall span a minimum duration of six months, during which time both parties shall fully commit to their respective roles

4. The details agreed upon in this contract cannot be changed, removed or edited until the maturity date of the contact, six months from the date in which it was signed by both parties.

5. Once signed and all sections have been initialed by both parties, the submissive shall only ever address the Mistress as "Mistress", "Ma'am" or "Mommy", as per her discretion.

6. Once signed and all sections have been initialed by both parties, the contract will be in effect immediately. 

******************

I really need to get me one of these for the office. This is going to be a very long document!

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Now you may call me, Ma'am

What do you say?

Continued from: The Night we Met

A Sarah Jane story

It was good to be back home, even though our modest house didn't come with the intense specialty rooms of Mistress Andrea's Facility, it had a nice domestic, D/s feel to it. 

Daddy led me by the hand upstairs, my heart fluttering with his possessiveness over me. On the bed lay a few scraps of black and white satin - a French maid apron that would leave my ass predominately bare, stockings and sky-high heels. I knew instantly what it meant. It was service mode for tonight.  

I quickly changed, adjusting the frilly choker around my neck before clicking downstairs to make Daddy's drink. I mixed his whiskey, adding just the right amount of ice. As I carried it to him, I felt his eyes on me, drinking in my slutty outfit. 

I performed a small curtsy while balancing his glass on a silver platter, then knelt before him with a demure smile on my face. 

As per the rules of our household, I settled back on my heels and reached for his zipper, ready to free his cock and worship it with my mouth, like the good little slut I am. 

I paused, my satin-gloved fingers on his zipper, as Daddy stopped me. 

"You've done so much for me this weekend, pet," he kindly murmured, his voice gentle. "Let me take care of you for a change." Before I processed this amazing treat, he was guiding me to the sofa, positioning me on the plush cushions. 

With my legs spread wide and my heels resting on his broad shoulders, I was completely exposed to him, my glistening pussy on full display. He dove in, his skilled tongue lapping at my sensitive clit. I moaned and bucked against his face as he brought me higher and higher, until I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me with blinding intensity. 

As I came down from my orgasmic high, I couldn't help but recall Mistress Andrea's suggestion about switching roles. The idea of taking control, of having Daddy kneeling at my feet as he was now, sent a thrill through me. But I quickly pushed the thought away. Daddy would never allow such insubordination. If I even hinted at wanting to top him, I'd get a spanking for certain.

Shockingly, his gaze met mine with such bashful innocence, my pussy still juice glistening off his lips when he spoke. "Huni," his voice hitched, "do you think you might want to give female dominance a try for a bit, and switch roles, maybe?" 

I stared at Daddy in shock, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. Him, the ever-dominant alpha, asking me to switch roles? It went against everything we'd established, everything I thought he wanted. And yet...the idea was tantalizing. 

A wicked grin spread across my face as I gazed down at Daddy. "I just came onto your lips," I purred, my voice dripping with honey. "What do you say?" I wanted to hear the words, to have him acknowledge my gift. To set the tone for this new dynamic he was proposing. 

"Thank you?" He phased, more like a question. 

"Thank you, Ma'am, you mean?" I hissed back in response to his lack of manners. 

"Thank you, Ma'am," he whispered and lowered his eyes. 

I smirked, relishing the power coursing through my veins. "Good boy. Now do it again," I ordered, spreading my legs wider. "And this time, show some enthusiasm. I want you to start at my asshole and work your way up to my clit. Slowly. Methodically, understood?" 

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Much better, young man. Now kiss my asshole before you begin. Show it proper respect." 

I watched as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my delightful little pucker. I settled back against the comfy armchair, watching as Russell dutifully began at my asshole, his lips soft and warm against my most sensitive area. 

"That's a good boy," I praised, running my fingers through his hair. "Now, start licking. Slowly. I want to feel every stroke of your tongue." 

I came again, harder than before, my body convulsing with pleasure as Russell's tongue worked its magic. As I caught my breath, I couldn't help but think how easily I could get used to this new dynamic. The power, the control - it was intoxicating. 

I kicked off my slutty heels, placing my stockinged feet on his back, as he assumed a position on his hands and knees. Crossing my ankles, I reached for the whiskey I had so dutifully prepared for him. Brining the glass to my red lips, I took a slow sip, savouring the burn as it slid down my throat. I felt like a fucking Goddess!

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Sign Here, Initial There

The Night We Met

Continued from: So I may be forgiven

A Sarah Jane story

Robotically, I sank to my knees on the dirt floor of the shed. My hands went to his belt that so recently was used to strap my bare bum. I unzipped his fly and reached inside, freeing his hardening cock. Leaning forward, I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. 

I took him deep into my mouth, humming softly and licking, using every trick I knew to bring him pleasure. Before long, hot, salty cum flooded my mouth and I swallowed obediently, not wanting to lose a single drop. 

"Thank you for your cum, Daddy." I whispered reverently. Leaning forward, I placed a soft, worshipful kiss on the tip of his penis, completing my post-spanking ritual. 

Raising from my knelt position, I heard a car door slam shut. "Oh my god, the girls are home!" I squealed to Daddy. 

Mistress Andrea: 

(Sporting a cute little tam that I picked up in London)

I pulled up to the house in our car, Summer sitting quietly beside me. As we parked and got out, I spotted Russell and Sarah Jane emerging from the woodshed. One look at Sarah's tear-streaked face and slightly stiff gait told me exactly what they'd been up to. I smirked to myself, knowing that she must have been a naughty girl, to earn a trip out there. 

Before I could say anything, Sarah caught sight of us and let out and ear-piercing squeal of delight. She broke away from Russell's hand and came running towards us. Summer braced herself as Sarah launched herself into her arms, giggling and covering her face in kisses. 

We all made it inside where the girls' joyful reunion continued. 

Their playful affection was a stark contrast to the heavy emotions weighing on my heart. As Sarah continued to shower Summer with kissed and affectionate babble, I turned my gaze to Russell. 

Our eyes met and I felt a lump in my throat. Seeing his handsome, familiar face brought all the emotions of the past few days rushing to the surface. Without a word, he opened his arms to me and I stumbled forward into his embrace, burying my face against his chest. 

"Where's Cassie?" Russell asked, his voice rumbling through his chest. At the mere mention of her name, I felt fresh tears spring to my eyes. I shook my head against him, momentarily unable to speak past the sob rising in my throat. 

"She's gone, Russ," I managed to choke out. "Cassandra chose to stay behind in London, with her new wife."

"They got married in the woods, surrounded by nature. It was so pure and full of love." I pulled back to look at him, seeing my own sadness reflecting in his eyes, as a lone tear rolled down his cheek.  

"She's gone..." I whispered again. 

I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath to compose myself. Suddenly, Summer's playful voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "So, Sarah, what were you doing out in the woodshed with Daddy? Did you get yourself into trouble?" She poked at Sarah's ribs, making the pair of them squirm and giggle. Leave it to Summer to lighten the mood in the room. 

"I might have been a bad girl earlier," she admitted sheepishly. "But Daddy took care of it." She rubbed at her bottom, causing Summer to laugh outright. 

As Summer went up to shower, I settled onto the plush couch in the living room, tucking my hosed feet beneath me as Sarah plopped down on her knees in front of me. I thanked her for house-sitting and blushed a little in saying, "and thank you for...you know, the Mandy thing." Sarah knelt and kissed both of my feet to welcome me home, before her eyes widened. 

"Oh my god, Mistress, you won't believe what Daddy made us do," she gushed. "He forced me to lick Mandy's asshole, then we had to fuck each other while he whipped us!" 

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And how did that make you feel, sweetheart?" 

"Ashamed, Ma'am...ashamed that I loved every minute of it! Thank you for allowing us to use your space, Mistress." 

I smiled and stroked her hair, but before I had a chance to respond, she leaned in to speak again.

"There's something else, Mistress," Sarah said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's Daddy. He's been acting a bit aloof lately. Going through the motions but not really into it, you know? Even the spanking I earned today...it wasn't as intense as usual and I totally deserved intense. It was like his head wasn't in it." 

I listened intently as Sarah poured out her concerns, remembering Russell's struggles with the more extreme aspects of BDSM. "You know Russ has a hard time with the heavier stuff," I reminded Sarah gently. "He's got such a soft spot for women, it's difficult for him to fully embrace that 'Master' role sometimes." 

I leaned back against the couch cushions, considering Sarah's words. "You know, I wonder if part of the problem is that he misses submission," I mused. "When he was my submissive, there was never any question about his passion or enthusiasm." I smiled, remembering those heady days of having Russell completely under my stiletto. 

Sarah's gaze hardened with jealousy, but she quickly snapped out of it at my next comment. "Have you ever thought about asking him to switch roles with you? To let you take charge for awhile?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ma'am," she stammered. "I couldn't possibly bring that up, I'd be punished." 

"I suppose you're right," I remarked, while ushering her head into my lap and stroking her hair. I quickly changed the subject. "Tell me more about your time with Mandy, sweetheart." 

While Sarah regaled me with the raunchy details of her weekend in the sex dungeon, I strained my ears, trying to catch the faint lyrics drifting from Russell's phone as he just slow sipped a whiskey at the bar. 

♫ I have been searching...for...a trail to follow...again...

   Take me back....to...the night we met...

♫ I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you...take me back...to...the night we met

♫ I don't know what I'm suppose to do, haunted by the ghost of you

    Oh, take me back...to...the night...we met...

It was a sad tambour, underscored by the twang of an acoustic guitar. Was he reminiscing about our early days together? Is that how Russell felt? Like he had lost a piece of himself...a dominant, struggling with submissive desires?

I snuck out my phone and tapped the Shazam button...it was, in fact, a really sweet and haunting song that was catching me right in the feels too. I wasn't sure what advice to give Sarah. Eventually we just joined him at the bar and we were welcomed with a smile. 

"Tell me all about the wedding, Ma'am," he cheerfully tried to hide his inner turmoil, "it sounded lovely."  

The track in question here is by Lord Huron: The Night we Met

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: What do you say?

 

So I may be Forgiven

Continued from: My Little Ponies

A Sarah Jane story

Even though I knew I was in deep shit and would be feeling Daddy's belt across my ass tomorrow, he didn't dwell on my transgression. That's just the way things worked between us. I'd face the consequences for my actions, but then all would be forgiven. 

For the rest of the evening, things went on as usual. After Mandy left, Daddy and I settled in on the couch to watch some movies together, still essentially house-sitting at Mistress Andrea's Facility. 

I cuddled up against him, trying to soak up his warmth and affection while I still could. Even though he wasn't brining up my impending punishment, I couldn't stop thinking about it. My stomach was in knots imagining the thrashing I was going to get. 

Partway through the second movie, Daddy shifted and I felt his hand come to rest on the top of my head. Without a word, he applied gentle pressure, guiding my face down towards his lap. Obediently, I slid off the couch and positioned myself between his knees. 

I focused all my energy on pleasuring Daddy, trying to take my mind off the punishment looming over me. I sucked and bobbed with enthusiasm, taking him deep into my throat. 

Before long, I felt Daddy's cock swelling and pulsing between my lips. With a grunt, he gripped my pigtails and held my head down, forcing his length into my throat as he came hard. I swallowed every drop obediently, continuing to gently suckle him clean as he softened in my mouth. 

"Good girl", he praised, patting my head. "Now come back up here and finish watching this movie with me." I crawled back up on the couch and snuggled against his lap, but my mind was still racing, unable to forget the painful reckoning I'd be facing tomorrow. 

The next morning I woke up early and got ready to face my spanking. In the shower, I scrubbed myself thoroughly, wanting to be fresh and clean for Daddy. After drying off, I pulled my hair up into a high, tight ponytail to keep it out of the way. 

Next, I selected my outfit carefully. I stepped into a pair of big, plain white cotton panties - the kind that covered everything and made me feel anything but sexy. Over those, I pulled on a sweater dress that would allow Daddy easy access to my bum. I finished the look with high heels, before taking a deep breath and headed downstairs to face my fate. 

"Daddy, I'm ready for my punishment." I said softly, my voice wavering slightly. "I was rude and disrespectful to our guest yesterday and I spoke out of turn to you in front of her. I'm truly sorry for my behaviour. Please spank me severely, Daddy, so I may be forgiven."

A few tears slipped down my cheeks as I awaited his response, my body slightly trembling in anticipation. 

Daddy regarded me silently for a long moment, his expression stern. Finally, he stood up and took me firmly by the upper arm and began leading me out of the house. My stomach dropped as I realized where we were headed - the woodshed. The woodshed, no matter who's home it happens to be at, was where Daddy will take me for only the most serious infractions, the ones that required only the harshest of punishments.  

As we approached the small outbuilding, I started shaking harder, my breath coming faster. Daddy opened the door and guided me inside the unfinished space, appearing as though it was under construction. 

"Stand there," Daddy commanded, pointing to a spot on the unfinished wall. 

"Face the wall and think about what you did and why you're here. You've got 15 minutes." He released my arm and I hurried to obey. 

The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow as I contemplated the severe whipping I knew was coming. My bum clenched involuntarily beneath my short dress, already anticipating the fiery sting of Daddy's belt.

When the 15 minutes were finally up, I heard Daddy's heavy footsteps approaching behind me. "Strip," he ordered. "Leave the heels on." With fumbling, shaking fingers, I peeled off my dress and frumpy underwear, letting them pool on the dirty floor. Goosebumps rose on my naked flesh in the cool air. 

Once I was fully naked, save for my heels, Daddy gripped my arm again and marched me out the door of the shed. I gasped as I realized he was taking me outside, where anyone might see my shameful punishment. He dragged me over to an old wooden ladder leaning against the back wall of the shed. 

Roughly, he bound my wrists and ankles to the rungs with coarse ropes, stretching me out tightly. Satisfied that I was secured well enough, he walked over to the large weeping willow tree a few yards away. He selected a long, slender branch and stripped it of its leaves, fashioning a wicked-looking switch. He swished it through the air as he approached my vulnerable form. 

I braced myself as Daddy took his position behind me, switch it hand. Closing my eyes, I tried to steel myself for the searing agony I knew was coming. But to my shock, after only a dozen sharp, stinging lashes across my bare bum, he tossed the switch aside. 

I barely had time to process this before I heard the ominous sound of his belt being removed from his pants. The thick leather cracked against my already smarting cheeks, painting lines of fire across my skin. But again, he stopped after just a dozen strokes. 

As Daddy untied me from the ladder, I was confused and almost...disappointed? Is that possible, what's wrong with me? I had been mentally preparing myself for an absolutely brutal thrashing, the kind that would leave me sore and sorry for days afterwards. But this punishment felt almost anticlimactic in comparison. My bum was certainly red and stinging, but it was nothing compared to what I had been anticipating. 

I rubbed my wrists as Daddy led me back inside the shed, handing me my dress to put back on. Perhaps this was just the first part of my punishment, with more to follow later? I didn't dare ask, simply followed him meekly back to the timeout spot, my head bowed in continued submission. 

Another 15 minutes of corner time? That was nothing. 

I should be standing here for at least an hour, my bare bottom on display, reflecting on my transgression until my legs ached and my back cramped. 

And the spanking itself...a few measly lashes with a switch and Daddy's belt? I'd gotten far worse for much lesser offences. My bottom should be crisscrossed with angry welts, bruised and tender to the touch for days afterwards. Instead, the sting was already fading, leaving only a mild warmth behind. It was if Daddy went easy on me, and I couldn't understand why. 

As my 15 minutes must have been drawing to a close, I heard Daddy's footsteps returning. He came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me back against his chest. I melted into his embrace, feeling the solid warmth of his body through his shirt. 

"It's ok, babygirl," Daddy murmured. "You took your punishment well. I know it wasn't what you were expecting, but sometimes mercy can be just as powerful as severity." He turned me gently in his arms so that I was facing him, looking up into his kind, understanding eyes. "Do you accept my forgiveness, little one?"

I nodded, blinking back tears. "Yes, Daddy. Thank you for punishing me and forgiving me. I don't deserve your mercy, but I'm grateful for it." I buried my face against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent. 

As Daddy held me close, I tilted my head up to look at him, batting my eyelashes like a cutie-pie. "Daddy, may I thank you properly for my punishment?" I purred, dipping down to my knees onto the floor of the woodshed, never breaking eye contact with Daddy. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: The Night We Met